


In a Thousand Years

by Girlwitharosetattoo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Dean - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Gay, Love, M/M, Smut, Supernatural - Freeform, cas, castiel - Freeform, vampire, vampirecastiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 06:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6273187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girlwitharosetattoo/pseuds/Girlwitharosetattoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my first real fic, so bear with me. (I have no idea what I'm doing)<br/>Castiel is a history teacher, content to sit back and watch the world. But Castiel is a thousand-year-old vampire. He has been taking care of humans recently and has grown fond of them. Castiel goes on a hunt to weed out the evil humans that don't belong when he finds Dean, attacked and bleeding. Castiel feels the need to protect the human and take care of him. Dean is indifferent, he can't make up his mind about Castiel. But all that becomes a small issue when Dean finds out that someone is hunting Castiel, Dean is going to have to repay the favor of saving lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Thousand Years

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real fic, so please bare with me, this could be a bumpy ride.   
> (Also, if someone would like to volunteer to edit after I do, that would be awesome)  
> Thank you for reading. This is just my first chapter so let me know what you think in the comments.

Vampire Castiel  
Castiel sits at his desk and starts to shuffle and organize the papers sitting there. He looks up when a student approaches his desk.

“Mr. Novak, I re-studied Elizabeth Bathory like you said, and you were right, there's a lot more to her than just the killings.” The blonde said setting a paper on his desk and smiled at him.

“Yes, she was from a noble family and held lots of power for a woman at the day,” He grinned back up at his student, pleased to see her taking an interest in history. “Thank you, I will have this graded and in the grade book before tomorrow night.”

“Have a good night Mr. Novak,” She said, waving goodbye with a smile, leaving the room.  
~

A few hours later Castiel stood from his desk, leaning his head back to stretch out the kinks from having his head down for so long. A grunt escaped when he stretched his shoulders, and when he stood up again his stomach rumbled with hunger. It was time for a hunt.

He smiled to himself, he always gets a little excited when he has time to hunt, the thrill still feels the same as it did years ago when he was just a fledgling. Where to go this time? Last time he went a town over just to spread out a bit. This time, he will walk around the raunchy bars downtown to pick out the scum.

Castiel never liked killing innocent and would rather starve than end the life of someone who could potentially change the fate of the world. He sees it in the eyes of his students, their lives are so important, so fragile, he decided he would help out and pick out the humans that would harm their chances at a future.

He went home first to change into a hooded dark gray sweatshirt and a dark pair of jeans. It would blend in better than his button-down shirt he wore at school. He parked his car down the street from the most popular bar in town, the one with the most fights, the most low-life. But his hunt didn't last very long because he had walked no more than a block when he heard the sound of a knife being unsheathed, a grunt of a man, and then a thud.

Castiel quickly located the source a few blocks away and ran. When he came to a dark alley way, he saw a homeless looking man with raggedy grey hair standing over a dark pile with a knife, now dripping blood and breathing heavily. The homeless man must not have noticed Castiel yet because he was busy picking through the dark pile, which appeared to be another man. The old man had just found the other man's wallet when he heard Castiel's voice behind him.

“That doesn't seem to belong to you, now does it?” The homeless man jumped up quickly. 

“You'll get out of here quickly if you know what's good for you! Now scat!” He said waving his knife at Castiel, which he assumed was supposed to be threatening. 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Now here you are, taking what's not yours, at a cost of another, for what? So you can go buy more cheap whiskey and drink yourself half to death before repeating this sorry cycle?” Castiel was giving him one chance to change the whole situation, which of course he did not take.

The man lunged toward Castiel with knife in hand, but he did not expect Castiel to be so quick. He was behind the other man in a matter of a second, Castiel pushed him down onto the ground and he fell onto the knife he intended to harm Castiel with. The man rolled over to look Castiel in the eyes, knife buried deep in his abdomen. “Pl... Plea-Please...” Blood began pouring out of his mouth and Castiel felt his hunger flair once again, and then everything turned red.

Everything was over as quick as it had started. Castiel drank down the old blood and could taste the drunk on him.

Castiel looked to the other man on the ground. He looked like an average man, just unlucky. The homeless man had stabbed him in the side and it looked as if he had fallen backwards, hit his head on the wall behind him, and knocked himself unconscious. Castiel looked down to the wound on the man's side, pouring red. Castiel leaned his head down, lifting the man's shirt away from the cut, he slowly licked the length of the wound. The fresh young blood felt amazing on Castiel's tongue, he closed his eyes to enjoy the taste for just a second. The cut began to close with the help of Castiel's saliva, soon it would just be a faint scar and a distant memory.

Castiel looked at the man's face, an attractive face. What was he going to do with him? Just drop him off at a hospital? They would question why they were both covered in blood and cuts in a shirt where there was only a scar on the body. What would he say? Someone attacked the man and what happened to the attacker? Everything wouldn't add up correctly.

Castiel knew it was crazy, he knew he would regret it later, and it was just a dreadful idea in the first place. He picked the man up in his arms, carried the man to his car and buckled him in.  
~  
Dean woke up with a pounding headache, but drunk Dean was nice enough to leave him a glass of water and some ibuprofen by his bedside. He quickly downed the glass of water and a few pills. He slowly became aware of his surroundings as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and noticed that the bed he was laying in wasn't his. Afraid he slept with another stranger he rolled over, but no one was in the bed with him and the other side of the bed seemed to be untouched. 

Dean sat up and looked around the room some more, the room was plain, dark sheets over the bed, a dresser in the corner of the room. He didn't notice anything in particular at the time, just that this was not his room. He tried his hardest to remember how he got there, everything was unclear and trying to remember gave him a headache.

Dean swung his legs off the side of the bed and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. That movement caused a pain behind his ribs which immediately brought forth a memory from the previous night. Dean was holding his hands out in front of him, defending himself from someone. And that someone stabbed him in the ribs, he recalled falling backwards and blacking out. There were just a few flashes after that, him laying on the ground and looking up and seeing two men, on was attacking the other. Then a memory of him still laying in the same alleyway but someone was there with him, he could see them just out of the corner of his eye, their head down inspecting his fresh wound. The last this he could recall was being carried, by someone strong and muscular. 

So did someone save him? Who? Why? What happened to his attacker? 

Dean lifted his shirt, which he realized was also not his, to reveal a scar where he remembered a knife cutting into his skin. How long has it been? Long enough for a serious wound to heal. Had he been in a coma? Was this a dream? He shook his head and stood. Standing made him woozy but he continued to walk towards the door, determined to find out what happened.

He walked through a hallway, listening carefully for anyone else. He couldn't hear anything upstairs, but there were small noises coming from downstairs. A clink of a glass, a small sigh. Was someone down there? Who? Was it the person that saved him?

Dean walked down the stairs, past a small living room and into a kitchen where he found someone sitting at a petite kitchen table. The man looked up to Dean with a coffee cup paused at his lips. Dean sucked in a breath. The man had dark messy hair and big blue eyes that seemed to be looking into Dean's soul, that frightened him.

“Hello Dean, how are you feeling? Did you sleep well?” He said, sitting his cup back down on the table. Why did he know his name? Who was he? Why is he here?

“What?” Was the only thing Dean could think. His eyes wide and heart beating a mile a minute.


End file.
